


baby bird

by wooteena



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Floris | Fundy, Mentioned Niki | Nihachu, Non-Binary Ranboo, Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF) has Vitiligo, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF) has Albinism, Technoblade Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Trans Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, i cant keep the tone the same for more than five seconds ok, theyre all human so i needed Work Arounds so here we go, those will Make Sense Soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooteena/pseuds/wooteena
Summary: Technoblade swears that he's smart, but maybe not smart enough to not fall victim to adopting a dual-toned freshmen when he sees the kid getting bullied.ORPhil already has three adopted sons, why can't Techno have his own?
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 205
Kudos: 2327





	1. officer in my defence i punched that guy because he deserved it

**Author's Note:**

> credit to me (https://wooteena.tumblr.com/post/640061822213423104/to-expand-in-my-head-this-ver-of-ranboo-is-dark) for making this idea and loving it so much that i wrote over 1k words about it

Techno Blade-Minecraft would call himself smart. He got good grades without trying, learned second, then third languages with ease, read textbooks for fun, etcetera etcetera. Wisdom without experience was a rare thing to possess, especially as a high school senior but techno had it tight in his grasp, easily making him a ‘Model Student’. He understood he got unneeded attention from that, which sucked, but it was an easy trade-off to be the automatic teacher’s favourite.

But Techno was a man of wisdom, not a man of sense. So naturally, he remembered a fact about baby birds he learnt when he was six years old:

_‘_ _Classical "imprinting", as seen with for example, ducks or geese, means that the animal's instinctive programming says "the first big animal you see after hatching is your mom, follow them and look to her for food, warmth, love and learning’_

Actually, Techno decided he was the man of Most Sense because at that very moment, the tallest, yet somehow weakest looking freshmen he’d ever seen was being cornered by a group of hefty looking seniors. 

_And the baby bird, with its innocent, scared eyes was looking right at him._

He looked around the hallway, a desperate scan for other students he could push his growing parental responsibility on to. It was a ghost town, as empty as the remakes of towns from the old west he saw on childhood school excursions. 

_‘Fuuuuuuuuuuck.’_

Technoblade took a deep breath in through his nose, then released it out of his mouth like if he breathed hard enough, his empathy could be taken away with the non existent wind in the soul-crushing grey hallways. It obviously didn’t work because Jesus _Christ_ that kid looked helpless.

As quickly as one could without compromising a freshmen’s still intact nose, Techno examined the seniors. They all wore the school football team’s letterman jacket (‘ _what is this, Heathers?’_ ), a classic pointer for internalised insecurity, toxic masculinity and most importantly unrightfully self diagnosed Strong Guy syndrome, which meant that they definitely were only beating up a freshmen because that was the most they could actually fight. One point to Technoblade. They also were all at least a solid five inches shorter than him, which Techno would have laughed at if the situation wasn’t so dire. Point two for Technoblade.

Catching himself before letting his wandering mind think up a full five paragraph M.L.A sighted essay to why he could crush these nerds, he decided that two points was enough leverage to still crush these nerds, but with slightly less confidence.

With as much patience as he could, he slowly walked up to the group like a silent lion hunting his soon to be, very dead* (maybe not dead, *slightly bruised) prey. The baby bird, trapped in one of his prey’s chokehold, stared at him like he was a madman. Techno’s objective changed: knock out the dickhead choking a kid.

They stood in a corner, the choker in the middle, the other two blocking off the only escapes and laughing cruelly at the baby bird. Completely distracted. 

Techno curled his fist, aiming to punch that asshole’s teeth in or at least break his nose. He starts to run, about five feet away from his target and oh god this is a terrible idea he does _fencing_ not hand to ha-

_BAM._

Choker’s nose made a resounding crack and fell back onto the jock on the left. Probably because it’d be ‘too gay’, or whatever, the guy sidesteps and lets a knocked out, nose broken, probably popular kid by comparing his ego to the size of his dick, fall onto the ground

The two awake bullies look between their knocked out friend, then at Techno, then at each other.

“MISS NIIIIHACHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!” 

Techno knew they’d call a teacher because they’re cowards but really? Nihachu?

_That lady is TERRIFYING what did he do to deserve this._

He let out a long, disappointed ‘bruh’ before with a jolt, remembering the whole reason he punched that jock in the first.

_The child._

He doesn’t bother trying to pick him up because _holy hell he’s tall,_ but pulls one of the kid’s arms over his shoulder, and with his other arm holds their waist and sprints as fast as he can down the hall.

“What the…” murmurs the half dead lump on his back, and while Techno’s surprised his vocal chords aren’t dead? Not even a ‘thank you’? Techno thinks he should start doing charity work at this point.

He continues to run though, because he’s a generous soul, until slowing to open a door that opens the blinding sunlight of the free world outside their prison.

Despite himself, Techno lets his mouth slip into a big enough smile that actually shows his teeth because _he just did that._

His celebratory moment is cut off though, because the weight on his back suddenly felt even heavier and-

_Oh my God the baby bird just fell asleep on me._

_Am I a father now?_

_What do I tell Phil? Does this make him a grandfather?_

_I can’t just take him home._

_What’s stopping you?_

_Oh my God, I’m a genius._

Techno may be a proclaimed genius, but he is not immune to the inherent propaganda of cute children, so he sets down the kid on the least grimey part of a battered metal bench to get his first proper look at the sleeping giant. 

Apart from their - Techno also used this as an opportunity to remember to defult to they/them - injuries (a bleeding nose, bruises forming on his arms, a black eye and a red handprint on his neck, he noted) the kid looked… Weird. Techno had subconsciously noticed it while carryingThem, but only now the complete oddity of him. Their skin from the jaw down was a uniform, warm, dark brown, and their jet black hair stood up, holding in place with its tightly curled texture, which was all decidedly normal. Where it got weird was their face. They weren't ugly, no, they looked average, if not perpetually awkward, even in their sleep. The right side of their face was a similar, if not slightly darker tone than the rest of his skin, but where it got  _ weird  _ weird was from the middle of their face and leftward, their face was pale. As pale as Techno, which is saying something because Techno himself has albinism; he has no melanin in his skin. 

He found himself sympathising for the kid again. Techno himself got bullied for his reddish eyes - a symptom of his albinism, and his naturally stark-white skin and hair. It got to the point that he dyed his hair pink, which decidedly made it worse because a _guy_ dying his hair _pink_? apparently high school treason to both students and the school rules. His bullies had a colourful range of insults, at least; Techno’s personal favourites being from after he dyed his hair: homophobic slurs. The teachers had constant complaints and even a couple suspensions, which didn’t stop Techno, obviously. What a wonder public school is.

So yes, Techno understood the baby bird, because despite Techno’s only weakness being himself (and apparently non-threatening freshmen?) as of now, it wasn’t like he came out of the womb a scary pink haired senior. He knew bullying like the hair dye aisle at his local department store.

He knew that helping the kid would make him more attached to the point of no return, but he’d accepted it. It felt like feeding a wild animal more food after making the mistake the first time, it’s not like it’ll get less annoying to have it following you around.

The moment Techno processed his own thought, his face blanched - somehow getting whiter despite literally being the textbook definition of a white boy. 

He’d fallen into the ‘senior adopting a defenceless freshmen’ trap.

_Shit._

Even more embarrassingly, this didn't deter Techno from pulling his first aid kit, for once his anxious over-packing doing some good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: any of the identities that arent accurate to the actual ccs are only traits used on a variation of the dream smp characters. meaning: i do not actually headcanon ranboo himself as black or non binary, nor with any other character traits to come :) if any cc is uncomfortable with what im doing, ill take this down.


	2. why are bets over sushi the uniting currency of asshole brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo awakes, bonding ensues and we meet our favourite theatre kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO HELLO HELLO!!!! welcome to chapter two of whats now called the baby bird au! twice as long, thrice as proof read and hopefully a little bit better :)
> 
> enjooy

The first thing that made Ranboo aware of his consciousness was pain. A dull ache and a sort of constriction around his neck, their left eye pounding with his heartbeat spattered soreness running down both his arms.

The second thing was the cold, a freezing ice cold that cut through the throbbing pain on his eye, at least a tiny bit.

The third, which finally made him pay attention to his surroundings, was a voice. Or, voices.

"C'mon, man, I would just like, give em a piggyback n' not have to catch a ride in your grimy ass car but I swear they have at least a couple inches on me; I could barely carry him down the hall," said a grumbling, deadpan, but clear voice.

Another more muffled, more british voice replied with a laugh, "I mean, I have a couple inches on you and that doesn't stop you from doing all sorts."

The louder responded with a long, shaking 'bruh' which shook as it droned. 

The same voice keeps going, "Look, I'll be generous because you’re a connivin’ loser; I'll pay for your sushi allowance."

The british voice pauses for a moment.

"For how long?"

The louder voice rids of monotonous overlay and dissolves to annoyance "Whad’ya mean for 'how long' its not your freakin' rent-" they take a breath, "A month."

Ranboo finally opens his eyes, completely enamoured by the complete absurdity of the conversation; what person has a sushi allowance and how big is it if the other cares about paying for it so much?

His eyelids peel apart, glued by sleep. The eye that was still pounding covered by what he thinks is a bandage.

They sit up, trying not to interrupt the conversation (which he now realises is over the phone).

He examines the person and remembers with a jolt what happened before he fell asleep.

_Being called names. Getting cornered. The chokehold. The absolutely terrifying pink haired dude punching the chokers nose in. Getting carried away from the scene._

And now... Here?

They clears his throat, an apology already set in his mind, but Mx Pink Hair whips their head around before he can say a word, phone still to his ear.

They stare at eachother - or, Pink staring at Ranboo while Ranboo looks at anything but their eyes - not a word between them (the british dude is raving in their ear). He notices their eyes are red, the scalera a slightly pinkish white.

"I’m gonna call you back Wil. The kid’s awake," they say, hanging up before 'Wil' can say anything.

They stay silent for an agonizingly stretched out second. The tension between them feels like a rope on its last thread.

Ranboo decides to snap it.

"Uh-"

The other cuts them off (this feels like a recurring theme), "Name n' pronouns?"

Well, they’re concise?

"Um, Ranboo. He/him. Or they.” He winces at himself because how does someone forget their own pronouns?

Their savior (kidnapper? Soon to be murderer?) Cocks an eyebrow, which he cringes under because yeah ranboo knows their name is weird but really? They chose it himself, give him a break.

Ranboos soon-to-be-murderer(?)'s face relaxing a bit and with the ghost of a bemused smile on his lips says "I'm guessin' you chose your own name too?"

And holy crap does ranboo almost burst because did he just find someone he can relate to outside of the internet?

"Yes! I mean- are you..?" Despite his excitement, he still can't seem to form a coherent sentence, so he just decides to leave it to the fates for the other to understand.

Their faces seems to perk a bit, somehow understanding ranboo's non-sentence. 

"Ooh. Nah, I'm cis." They (he, ranboo supposes) pauses, his face looks as if he's trying to construct a puzzle together; ranboo feels a little disappointed but its smothered by the instant connectedness from one socially inept teenager to another, "I’m Techno, he/him. My dad has an… Unconventional namin’ style."

Ranboo doesn't even think about what's coming out of his mouth before he says, "That literally explains nothing, I just feel more confused!"

They slap their hand on his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment. They just ruined it oh my god that was so rude-

Is that? Laughter? Is Ranboo in heaven? Or hell?

He opens his uncovered eye to a slit and sees... Techno laughing. Not a polite chuckle, he's laughing. A breathy, high laugh which does not match his face.

Despite themself, ranboo feels a laugh bubble in his chest and lets it escape, because who _is_ this dude?!

* * *

Techno has not laughed this hard in _weeks_.

The kid (Ranboo, he reminded himself) hadn’t even said anything funny, but their seemingly instantaneous bravery surprised themself so badly and he looks like a puffed up little duckling _oh my God what have I become._

Techno’s persona: stone cold, deadpan confidence and admirably asshole-ish, had always been smooth and rid of cracks. Now he felt as if it had turned to _Kintsugi_ , broken, but repaired by gold, the very kid who broke it in the first place

He and Ranboo were now both seated on the bench in a comfortable silence, chests still heaving from their hysterics. 

His thoughts were broken by his phone buzzing—a guitar strum; Wilbur’s notification sound.

**wilbur snot: I'm right around the corner :)**   
  


**techNO: dont text while ur driving**

**techNO: or do i dont own you**

**wilbur snot: Pfft**

**wilbur snot: I'll honk when I'm there**

**techNO: k**

**wilbur snot: You are the worst you know that**

**techNO: k**

**wilbur snot: Oh my God**

Techno snorts and puts down his phone.

“Who was that?” Asks Ranboo, and _no_ , Techno definitely didn't jump a little because he forgot Rranboo was there, thank you him very much.

“My brother— - Wil. He’s picking us up in either like, two minutes or half an hour, dependin’ on what he means by _'around the corner’_.”

Ranboo looks down at him quizzically, (and wow, it’s weird to see someone looking down at him other than Wilbur) “Uh- one, why are we going to your house and two, the same Wil from before? He was like, the most British sounding person ever, how are you brothers?”

“Uh- one,” starts Techno, copying Ranboo’s speech pattern, “because I feel obligated to take care of you and two, you haven't unlocked that lore yet.”

Ranboo covered his mouth, making a completely unsuccessful attempt at hiding his smile, white teeth contrasting the dark back of their hand. The overwhelming need to never let the harshness of the world even so much as _touch_ Ranboo’s dual toned skin once again enveloped Techno.

_I am so fucked._

Luckily, Techno’s parental crisis was cut off by a short honk, followed by another short honk, then a long honk, then another short honk. A pause. Then two more short honks, and one long honk. Techno is not surprised when he turns his head to see Wilbur’s stupid yellow beetle.

Ranboo looks at Techno, eyebrows scrunched, “What is he…?”

“He just spelled out ‘ _F U_ ’ in morse code. To me... probably. He’s not _that_ much of a dick to strangers.” 

Ranboo chuckles uncomfortably. Techno just sighs, already resigned to the relentless bullying that he’ll have to endure.

“Heyyy, the man of the hour has arrived!” Stifling his laugh seeing Ranboo cramped in the backseat, “Techno, I think you were exaggerating how tall he was,” says the 6’5 menace that is Wilbur Soot.

“I’m laughin’ Wilbur. Truly a comedic genius,” Techno says, face straight, voice rid of any brightness it had speaking with Ranboo. He wonders why he has to live in the same household as the Daniel Howell knock-off.

“I know, I know,” Wilbur ignores his brother’s sarcasm and starts the engine.

Techno pauses.

“ _Anyway_ , Ranboo, this is Wilbur; he/him. Wilbur, this is Ranboo, he/they. Wilbur, _be nice_.”

“I’m always nice!”

“Didn't you literally just spell ‘F U’ in morse code to me?” Ranboo says, speaking up for the first time.

Techno cringes at the second hand embarrassment Ranboo gives him. 

Wilbur gracefully ignores their social incompetence, focusing elsewhere—apparently not being the road, because he almost crashed laughing and _I have never met this man in my life._

“ _Oohhh my God, Tech, you two sound the_ exact same _, he's like your actual biological brother_ ,” Techno makes out through bubbles of laughter.

_What?_

Techno whips his head around to stare at Ranboo, who seemed to have the same idea because their eyes (which he just realised were two different colours _holy shit_ one was almost _red_ ) looked like they had blue screened. 

Wilbur, looking at them from the rear view mirror, said nothing, but chuckled quietly. Techno had finally picked up his own freshmen.

The car stopped with a jolt, breaking The Backseat Boy’s eye contact.

“We’re here. Techno, you seriously could’ve walked here it is not that fa-”

“Before you keep bullyin’ me, can you promise to back me up if Phil gets angry for me bringin’ a kid home without askin’?” Techno blurts; now or never.

“Did you…?” Wilbur turns around to face Techno with his stupidly smug face, “Did you not tell Phil?”

“No, I didn’t and that's why I need your help, assho-”

“Your guys garden is so cool..” Ranboo murmurs, face pressed to the car window, obviously not paying attention to their argument. Wilbur silently mouths an ‘awww’ at Techno.

Techno didn’t need to look at the garden to picture the lush moss mixed with uncut grass, the wildflowers, and the ivy creeping around the doorframe, “Yeah, dads a….”

“Fucking hippie,” cuts in Wilbur, followed by Techno bemusedly following up with “Environmentalist.”

Ranboo smiles a bit but says nothing as he gets out of the car and wanders into the garden, drifting from flower to flower like a bee.

“He reminds me of Fundy,” says Wilbur softly.

Techno laughs a little, the air puffing out of your nostrils type, “I’d tell you that everythin’ you like reminds you of Fundy, but you're kinda right this time.”

“Bet you an extra week of paying for my sushi that they’re friends.”

“That means one week off if they’re not.”

“I’m not throwing away my shot.”

Techno grumbles at him; he’d almost forgotten Wilbur did theatre.

“C’mon, let's get Phil’s heart attack over with,” Techno says, following after Ranboo.

“Right,” Wilbur follows, humming what Techno thinks is another song from _Hamilton_.

He taps Ranboo on the shoulder _aaaand there’s the puffed up duckling again._

“Sorry, sorry I should've paid more attention oh my God,” they say, as if they'd actually done something to warrant an apology, and God does Techno want to go on a rant about saying sorry too much.

He goes for a less overbearing approach; act like it’s not a big deal then change the subject.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for. Just warnin’ you, Phil will probably sound really angry or whatever, but I swear he's more angry at me bringin’ home a kid without tellin’ him than you actually bein’ there. He’ll probably force feed you a sandwich or something.”

Ranboo tugs at his bandages ( _anxious fiddling_. Techno files it in the back of his mind), “I…. am a little scared of your dad.”

“Don’t worry about it. He’s just a mother hen”

_Hypocrite_ , Techno says silently, remembering how he went back to get Ranboo’s schoolbag in the hallway and checked to see if they had their lunch money stolen.

He says nothing more, though, and walks through the already open front door (nice manners, Wilbur).

He finds Philza, calmly sitting on one of the sofas, a cup coffee in one hand, scrolling his phone in the other.

The calm before the storm.

And then Ranboo bumps his head on the doorframe walking in.

Phil turns his head to see Ranboo mid-rubbing his head, frozen under his gaze.

“Techno,” Phil says quietly. Calm, cool anger that stays bubbling right under the surface.

Techno is terrified.

“Why is there another child in the house that I didn't adopt?”

_There goes my pay to unlock lore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fucking shit i would like to say THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE OVERWHELMING SUPPORT ON CHAPTER ONE. this fic/au is super niche at least to my standards so i was Very surprised to see this be at almost 2000 hits by the time im writing this. because my ego is easily inflated, id like to that thank you to @onlygayminecraftstuff (my gf) for being supportive as always, thank you to @wwwwwelcomegays for being my beta, thank you to @imgns for being my beta but worse! (/lh) and thank you to my tumblr followers for being so patient with my endless stream of content about this au 
> 
> smooth segwey: speaking of tumlbr!! my tumblr (@wooteena) is the best way to get early/extra content for this fic! ive been almost constantly posting early dialogue concepts for unnplanned chapters, out oc context paragraphs of what im currently writing and Of Course random headcanons and shitposts about the au :) tldr if you like this fic, youll love my tumblr.
> 
> tldr 2 i just cannot handle positive reinforcement n ily all mwah mwah mwah i love ur comments <3 <3


	3. gender of the hour: pain and suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranboo suffers the joys of being AFAB, but the found family helps more than he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!!!! this chapter has been a long time coming and although im very proud of it there are some pretty heavy themes in this, so im going to put 'tw start' and 'tw end' for when the following content appears in the fic:
> 
> TWS: panic attacks, anxiety, self depricating/self destructive thoughts, and improper binder usage effects such as the feeling of suffocation.
> 
> im gonna do a short summary in the end notes for those who dont want to read the triggering content, which would be best read after skipping the triggering content to understand the plot. also be aware that theres joking talk of transphobia from a trans character at the very end. stay safe :)

For the second time today, Ranboo felt like they were going to get freaking murdered. Anxiety was working its wonders, failing to remind them that the first time they thought they were going to die, they just got adopted by some tired white guy.

He desperately holds on to Phil’s eye contact, despite his hatred of it, because he would prefer staying alive, thank you very much.

But like an ancient deity bestowing a single wish on the mortal plane, Phil breaks eye contact with him and turns to Techno and takes a long sip of coffee before setting his mug down. Ranboo takes the chance to reunite the door with its weapon of a doorframe. 

“Techno, mate,” Phil starts, and thank God he isn't talking to Ranboo because their mouth feels glued shut, “How do you always manage to get the kids with faces that I can't say no to?”

_What?_

Ranboo feels his face heating up; _that was so out of nowhere warn a person before you compliment him._

“Uhhh, natural talent?” Techno says, smart enough to edge his words with hesitance instead of pride. 

Phil’s face contorts, pruning to hide what Ranboo assumes is a smile.

They shift their attention away, face still hot and embarrassment growing redder as they become conscious of Wilbur’s breathless laughter.

_**TW START** _

Ranboo immediately assumes he’s laughing at them (because why else would he be laughing), covers their face with their hands and slides down the door in an attempt to become small and invisible. But the moment they start to move, they can tell something’s wrong, their chest stabbing with pain as they move.

Memories crush down on his ribs just as the pain does and reminds him that _oh God_ , he hasn't taken his binder off since he woke up that morning; which was more than eleven hours ago.

He knows he’s overreacting, but his self awareness feels like a shallow fourth wall break in a TV show; a mere shallow recognition and nothing else, and when your ribs feel like cracking, being self aware is no priority.

_Undiagnosed anxiety is a bitch._

“ _Fuck_ ,” they say unthinkingly. Regret physically manifests in the wheezing in their chest, the pain overwhelming, all they can think about is _how the hell they let it get that bad._

He felt out of breath. Like he’s run the mile. He knows it's just because he’s panicking, _he knows_ . He just can’t bring himself to **focus**.

They vaguely notice sudden silence. White noise of conversation ceasing. A hand on their shoulder. An even, but stern voice saying _‘what's wrong’_.

Ranboo forces his breath to even out even though each intake hurt like crap, if not to clear his mind then to not embarrass himself anymore than he has already.

“My-” they cough, feeling something click in their chest, “My binder.”

The person in front of him - Phil doesn't seem phased, even a glint of what he thinks might be recognition as he nods Wilbur to him silently.

Ranboo can already feel his breath picking up again, the back and forth in his mind starting to fight.

_Why did Phil call him over? What are they going to do?_

_‘You're bothering them; so nothing good. Who in their right mind would have some tranny break down on their floor and actually like them after.’_

_But at least Techno likes me? Or at least, I thought he did._

_‘Why would he? You’re just a freak who got beat up in front of him. He pities you, nothing more. You’re just making it awkward for the rest of them.’_

_‘You already knew it. I mean, I_ am _you.’_

They jolt to physicality, a hand on his shoulder pulling them out. Their face feels wet with tears. 

“Heyy Ranboo, I’m going to need you to breathe,” says Wilbur’s voice, calm and encouraging, tone not of pity but what Ranboo disbelievingly identifies as empathy.

Their breath shudders as they breathe out, but less painfully than before. It evens.

“Good, good - perfect, actually. Does your binder have a zipper or is it a pullover?”

Ranboo contemplates signing, throat feeling tight; the very last thing he wanted to do was talk, but the imposing voice chides in,

_Don’t be more trouble than you already are._

“Zip-” _fuck_ they hate how their voice cracks, “Zip-up.”

“Thank fucking God I did not feel ready to take a kids shirt off,” that earns a ghost of a laugh from Ranboo, “Can you unzip it fine yourself?”

He just nods, not trusting his voice to keep any semblance of dignity together a second time. His arm feels like it's heavy as lead by his side, but not daring to feel any more vulnerable, he forces it to reach under his shirt and pull the damned zipper down, releasing the physical and emotional pressure off his chest.

_**TW END** _

Their conscious rams into them headfirst, and as they pulls their binder off through their sleeve, the words start pouring out of their mouth without thought, their eyes bugging, “Oh my God, I am so sorry I should've noticed or remembered or _something_ , I’ll just grab my bag and I can-”

“Overruled,” Techno’s drawl cuts him off, “Go into my room - upstairs on the first left.”

Ranboo decides that Techno is a hundred percent messing with them with his lack of explaining at this point, but too tired to complain, they don't object and does what Techno tells him to, dragging themself up to full height, pointedly ignoring the painful extra weight on his chest and forcing his legs to work up the staircase and into the bedroom. 

The only way that Ranboo could all-encompassingly describe Techno’s room was… Lived in. The wall the door opened on was covered in a mix of anime and band posters - most of which Ranboo recognised - overlapped each other, creating a wallpaper with a crimson red anarchy _A_ symbol spray painted over the top; the only untouched posters being what Ranboo thinks are star charts, each protected with lamination. The whole wall was covered apart from a blank white wardrobe door.

_‘He’s too cool for you.’_

_Yeah, yeah whatever._

To his right was a full wall bookshelf, only separated by a cramped desk in the middle with a gaming monitor, school supplies, and a barely-alive looking macbook. Ranboo knew he could psycho-analyse the contents of the bookshelves and come to a more well rounded conclusion of Techno’s character, but he realised that that would be ‘weird as hell’ or ‘borderline stalkerish’, so they didn’t get ahead of themself. 

From a brief glance, though, he noted the overwhelming amount of ancient history with spatterings of greek mythology. Some shelves were fully designated to random trinkets that looked organized, but in a sort of chaotic way that Ranboo couldn’t decipher. Trophies and silk ribbons glittered in the open sunlight on the top shelf, tucked away slightly but still shining - definitely well taken care of. 

The wall to their left was mostly taken up by Techno’s bed - a basic black king size bed frame, plain white sheets and a single stuffed toy pig dressed in a royal cloak and crown. Above the bed a rack of varying fencing sabres hung, which arguably would be the coolest thing he’d ever seen if not for the two pride flags hanging on the wall that Ranboo identified as the asexual and aromantic flags.

Ranboo did not cry, no, because they are a totally dignified person but they couldn’t deny the wetness they blinked off.

_Because holy crap I’m not alone._

“Are you done inspectin’ the intricacies of my bedroom orー” Ranboo wipes his eyes before turning around to see Techno, armed with some sort of medicine, a water bottle, and new first aid supplies, which Ranboo would have hugged him for if he had any semblance of confidence.

Instead, they start to panic as they realise Techno must think they’re some sort of creep for snooping around in his bedroom.

Techno speaks before they can start to explain though, a simple, dismissive “It’s fine.”

“So do you, uh,” Techno continues, startling an already distracted Ranboo, “like it?”

Ranboo let the silence stretch between them as they gave Techno a confused look, context completely lost on him.

Techno made a sweeping gesture with his empty arm to the room around them, a slightly exasperated but not unkind look on his face.

“Ohhh,” Ranboo internally slapped their face, “Yeah, yeah I like it. It's cool.”

Techno’s eyebrow quirked, his gaze speedrunning a flicker to the spray painted anarchy symbol.

“You sure?”

_Ah. He’s worried he invited an authoritarian into his bedroom._

“Mhm,” they affirm.

Techno snickers slightly and finally moves out of the doorway, dumping himself and his armfuls onto his bed. He tilts his head to the space at the end of the bed. A quiet invitation.

Ranboo sat down and the two fell into a reasonably comfortable, if not slightly painful rhythm of gingerly peeling off bandages and plasters, and reapplying new ones with ointment underneath. Techno’s hands were gentle and methodical; hands that had done this time and time again.

Ranboo itched to have their puzzle of Techno slot together; to ask questions of existentialism and how the world had treated him, how his seemingly unrelated hobbies and skills blended like paint. But predictably, Ranboo’s poeticism was wasted, as by the time they had worked up the courage to find the edge piece to their puzzle, Techno had pulled off the last plaster - the patch over his eye, now soggy from melted ice.

“That was easily the worst experience of my life,” Techno holds the wet bandage like something rancid and chucks it into a bin, his words not exactly dripping with sarcasm, but more constantly coated with it.

Ranboo snorts, drawing parallels to Wilbur’s casual dramatacisms.

_Must run in the family._

“I’m a hundred percent serious Ranboo, this is no laughin’ matter,” Techno says, a hundred percent not serious.

Ranboo’s laughter pops like fireworks in his stomach (despite the painfully tight feeling in his ribs).

“It-it's just that,” he pushes out through fits of laughter, “you and Wilbur both are like, theatre kid dramatic.”

* * *

Techno is dangerously close to asking Ranboo if they’re an orphan.

In an act of betrayal his lips pull into a smile, which he has no consent for mind you, but he wins the battle over the laugh building in his lungs and instead fights for his crumbling dignity.

“Look, Ranboo, I know that Wilbur’s my brother but lumpin’ me in with him as a theatre kid is just sad,” his confidence completely crumbles as Ranboo’s (hand covered) laugh becomes breathless, but he pushes forward, “and also I can’t like, not be dramatic at all times or I _will_ die.”

Ranboo’s brow furrows, “That sounds like… a medical condition?”

Techno tenses up and decides that he will spontaneously combust if he ever makes Ranboo concerned about him ever again.

Ranboo holds their expression for another five seconds (which feels like five, pain inducing hours), before their face breaks into a grin. Techno’s shoulders relax, but he passively notes Ranboo’s habit of covering their smile.

And for the second time today, Techno found himself laughing with Ranboo. 

He had no information about parental instinct filed in his memories, but as their twinned breathy laughs intertwined, he knew he didn’t need a fun fact to know he felt the overwhelming need to _protect_.

His breath evened out and he mentally checked over his plan: Operation Make Ranboo Feel Understood. His words were in his head before his mouth, and permissions were set like concrete, so he started to initiate his work.

He hands Ranboo the medication and food and tries not to focus on how he did it, “Oh-kay, here’s the post-binder-shitshow supplies,” _internal smackage start here; I_ did not _mean to say it like_ that _,_ “‘nd I— will— get somethin’ to wear that doesn't constrict your ribs so much,” he says, stretching out his words as he moves to his closet, leaving a slightly dumbfounded, but medicated Ranboo on his bed.

With stage one, Feed and Medicate the Child Without Embarrassing Oneselves Social Capacity done, everything was going as planned.

Mostly.

Stage two; Post-Binder-Shitshow Prowess Part Two Electric Boogaloo, although less strong in name, is ready.

He casually picks out a black and white, perfectly oversized sweater, as if he hadn't already it in his mind's eye after meticulously sorting through his admittedly extravagant collection of pull-overs, and chucks it over to Baby Bird.

Said Baby Bird, while still mostly paralyzed, manages to block the jumper from thwapping them in the face, and holds it carefully, the gesture completely bewildering them.

Techno would have apologized for it, but alas, his conscious informs him that his internal organs would simultaneously shut down if he didn't stay precisely on track with his plan. 

_Oh well._

Overlapping internal dialogue churns out heaving waves of _‘L’s_ impolitely as he resigns to his social failure.

“Mkay, eat that and take the meds. I’m gonna _try_ n’ not get completely owned by Phil’s death stare and peer pressure him to let you stay over for the night,” * _natural speech pattern pause and polite turn to face who he's speaking to*_ , “You okay with that?” 

Ranboo processed Techno’s words slowly, a blank, still look of quiet, but weighted shock resting comfortably on their face for a drifting moment of silence before managing a disbelieving “Mhm”.

Techno nods a tiny, downturnt nod and makes his way to leave the room before-

“How d’you know all this - like the post-binder care ‘nd stuff?” Ranboo asks, voice muffled as he pulls on the sweater. 

_Bingo._

Stage three: Acceptance and Solidarity (nicknamed Oh God, I Need Child Support) has been initiated exactly how it was supposed to be. 

“Oh, yeah. Wilbur’s transmasc, so I kinda had to figure out this stuff before he fucked himself over,” he says, as if it was the most uninteresting report on the weather in the whole world.

Ranboo spits out his water and exclaims a “WHAAAAT?!” so loud that it echoes through into the hallway, (which even Techno thinks is a tad dramatic) followed by the distinct intertwining of his brothers’ giggles from downstairs. Techno’s laugh joins to mix, if not slightly disconnected from the distance.

“That was just a little over the top,” he says as he leans carefully on his postered wall, voice feeling way too bright for who thinks he is.

“No, no you don't get it! It's like,” Ranboo wheezes out, their voice - the constantly brighter version of Techno’s - lighter than usual, “Your whole family's non-cishet, it's insane.”

“Ignorin’ how you assume Phil’s not straight-”

“I have _eyes_ ; he wears silk dressing gowns,” Ranboo gargles, downing their medication, which Techno recognizes as a Very Bad Idea, but does nothing about it, too busy stifling laughter at Ranboo’s gaydar. 

_Queerdar?_

“Tommy is, unfortunately, our token cishet,” Techno sighs as recognition, then the seven stages of grief flashes in Ranboo’s eyes. 

“Holy cow, I am, _so sorry_ , that you have to live through that but - Tommy’s your brother?”

“He’s adopted,” says Techno, as if he weren't also adopted.

Ranboo’s face twists, looking like they didn't know if they were allowed to laugh or not, and settles for an awkward combination of the two. Techno forces himself to file his growing protection instinct in an already incredibly stuffed mental cabinet.

Techno smiles his own less contorted smirk as Ranboo’s energy drained energy catches up to them, their eyelids heavy as they flop face down on the bed, sweater-drowned limbs spread out like a starfish. He vaguely wonders if Ranboo always sleeps like that, or if they’re just exhausted.

The mental filing cabinet is getting very, very stuffed.

* * *

“Before you explain the giraffe in your bedroom,” Phil starts, truthfully brutal as always, “What the _fuck_ are you wearing.”

Ah yes. The Fit Check. Phil would call it age old bonding tradition or something, but it almost feels like just an excuse to roast Techno. Endearingly. Maybe. 

He stands up from the lounge, the white clips of his Tripp pants clattering, which are paired with white platform sneakers (that coincidentally help him not feel totally dwarfed around Ranboo), and a plain white t-shirt that simply says ‘minecraft’ on it in tiny, sharpied font, and. He turns around to reveal the similarly sharpied ‘gamer’ on the back.

He faces Phil, who looks like he is barely holding his composure; simultaneously disgusted and amused - which is an overwhelming success in Techno’s book.

“Respect the drip, Ph-”

“- _Anyway_ ,” says Phil, stressing his syllables, “What’re you gonna do with.. _what did Wil say their name was.._ Rainbow?”

Techno feels embarrassed _for_ Ranboo at this point.

“It's Ranboo. They use he/they.”

Phil looks slightly pained, which rightfully confuses Techno before-

“I WON THE BE-ET~!!” Says Tommy in a sing-songish chant as he walks into the room, showing his very unfortunate presence and leaning over Phil from the couch. 

_I am so tired,_ “...What?”

“Me ‘nd Phil started a bet while you were healing The Boo because _I_ was all like ‘He definitely uses he/they, they’re wearing a fucking hawaiian shirt without looking like a dad,’ like I’ve been saying that since I saw him _and_ Wilby agrees!

“but then Phil was all like ‘But he wears a binder so he must use he/him because he’s a trans dude,’ and was _all_ fucking upset because I insulted his shirts,” That earns a playful wack from Phil, “So then I was all like ‘Pronouns don't equal gender, you stupid bitch,’ and it was great ‘cuz now I’m five dollars richer and objectively smarter.”

Phil dejectedly hands over a five dollar bill to Tommy who snatches it up, “The cost of a lesson I guess, but you literally get pocket money anyway Tommy,” aforementioned Tommy thoroughly ignored him and pockets the bill.

“Tommy, you are the only cishet ever,” compliments Techno, and Tommy fucking _beams_ , “But I thought you n’ Ranboo were already friends?”

(The dots had finally connected in Techno’s head; Tommy’s previously said in passing ‘Lanky Looking Yin Yang Fucker’ of a friend obviously being Ranboo.)

“Ehh, ‘twas never a conversation topic.” 

Right on key, Wilbur walks in - adorned with a smugger than ever evil grin - and leans over Tommy, taking a brief, disgusted glance at Techno’s Minecraft shirt before drawling sarcastically, “That is _so_ weird, Tommy, because didn't you say to me a couple days ago that you were too scared to talk to the ‘Cool Enderman Looking Bitch’?”

Tommy’s face flushes crimson all the way to his ear tips, but uncharacteristically doesn't flare up (verbally, physically he’s _very_ red), instead he just grumbles his way to the single seater, pulling his knees up, and taking out his phone, silently leaving the conversation.

Wilbur grins in playful victory, his immorally long legs stepping over the couch and slumping down next to Phil.

“Okay: I have two propositions for you Phil, ‘nd they’re extremely Important and Vital,” 

Phil raises an eyebrow that says _‘go on’_ , so he does, “Can Ranboo stay the night?”

Phil’s left eyebrow somehow raises higher, disappearing into his hair, “... Maybe.”

“As long as I can beat his arse for binding for however fucking long he did for _that_ to happen”

“.... We aren't abusing the guest, Wil,” deadpans Phil, “What else?”

“Right. Can I adopt them?” Techno would be a lying pig if he said he wasn’t crossing his fingers in prayer. 

“ _Ah, yep, there it is_ ,” Phil says under his breath, face completely unsurprised, “Uhm, yeah, no. Definitely not.”

“I declare transphobia, Phil Za Minecraft,” Wilbur declares.

“I literally paid for your top surgery and hormones, Wil.”

Techno snorts at their back and forth. This was far from the first time that Wilbur decided everything that went against what he wanted is transphobia. 

“Ehh, I think that might have been a complete figment of your imagination. Might need to get that memory of yours checked out.”

Phil stares directly at the family photo on the coffee table, which took place right after Wilbur’s first testosterone shot. Said Wilbur follows his gaze and smoothly ignores it, mock disappointment at Phil’s very real, completely justifiably pointed out ‘transphobia’.

“... What if they’re… a republican?” Phil says exhaustedly, looking as if he hasn't slept in a very, very long time.

Techno contemplates the thickness of his dad’s skull, “Phil, he’s literally trans.”

“And only very, _very_ stupid trans people are like even a tiny bit right wing,” Wilbur elaborates. 

“Ah.”

“So can he stay over the night?”

“For fucks sake- _fine_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> triggering content recap: ranboo has a panic attack due to wearing his binder for too long in front of phil, wilbur and techno. wilbur helps ranboo to calm down and take their binder off.
> 
> OKAY ID LIKE TO SAY IM EXTREMELY SORRY ABOUT THIS CHAPTERS WAIT!! i struggle with motivation bc of physical and mental health things so it has been a Long Battle. i hope this chapter reached your expectations :)
> 
> once again thank you to @wwwwwelcome gays for beta reading, my wonderful boyfriend @onlygayminecraftstuff for reading over it at just supporting me in general, @imgns for watching over me like a terrible guardian angel as i write and most importantly: ALL OF YOU ON TUMBLR! the constant support and feedback i get as i write helps me so fucking much. genuinely. 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at @wooteena :) i post both baby bird and dream smp content.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: ranboo saying that he feels at home when seeing technos pride flags /is not/ because ranboo is aroace in the story, but simply because theyre both lgbtq+. because i personally dont feel comfortable with it, i wont be assigning sexualities to characters based off irl minors. ranboo has said hes ok with his character being portrayed as non binary :)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is my baby do Not bully it 
> 
> (also i only have a vague idea for where the plot goes for a bit and then i might start doing isolated plot wise chapters so drop ur ideas if u wanna have somethin written)
> 
> my tumblr is @wooteena! theres extra content about the au there and you can send asks if you want more :)


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